


I Dare Say You Can Write

by ObviousLoz



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, unfinished?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObviousLoz/pseuds/ObviousLoz
Summary: I found this from 5 years ago and thought...why not?
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	I Dare Say You Can Write

“I dare say you can write,” Mrs Busby squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. She was kind. Patsy thought she could see Delia in her. The Delia that she’d come to know, when the childlike giggle or the indignant frown, or the brusque bossiness had gone, and the sweet, soft, tender Delia was there. 

That was it. Delia was going to be taken back to Pembrokeshire, not knowing who her own mother is, let alone who Patsy is. Or was. Taken away, so she can’t see her, she can’t even speak to her. What had she thought, anyway, that they’d let Delia go with her, to their new flat, to recover? She was a stranger to all of them now. “I’m Patsy” She’d said it and hoped that it might mean something. That Delia might have mentioned her, or asked for her. Stupid. What if she can’t remember how to read? Any letter Patsy sends now, well. Well it will have to be written for Mrs Busby. What could she possibly say anyway?

Patsy swallowed through the grief that was gripping her throat, and left without taking an address. 

She walked, carrying the flowers she had meant for Delia, to the little flat in Stepney. They had chosen it so carefully; as close to half way between the London on the Whitechapel Road and Nonnatus in Poplar as they could manage. It was early November now, and the fog from the Thames that crept up through the streets from the docks was biting at her cheeks, stinging them as it caught the salty dampness beneath her eyes. She opened the front door. It did smell of bleach. Her heart gripped at the memory. Only two nights ago. Coffee. Bleach. Delia had said it with so much love. 

Welcome home. 

***

“You sound a bit like a nurse.” 

Patsy gasped back tears as she rubbed soap over the glass, remembering,

“Are you a friend of mine?” Had there been a flicker of recognition? No. Curiosity. Delia had looked at her with the curiosity of a child. A friend. Yes. The lady you help with the Cubs. Yes. Patsy. You said you wanted to get married, more than anything, and you meant to me. You remember. You have to remember.

Delia had been right about this window, facing East, high up in the attic. The morning sun would burst through here like a fanfare, and she would make this window shine for sunrise. 

They’d had one night together in this flat. A night they had meant to spend dusting away the lives that had been there before so they could fill it with their own. Really they’d spend half an hour scrubbing and the rest of the time tangled on the blanket talking about how they’d spend that life together. Geometric patterned china and yellow walls. Patsy couldn’t care less what they had, she just gazed at the one thing she wanted most, as Delia went on. She must have thought about this for months! Patsy had never allowed herself to think of a life together, a life of happiness, but Delia seemed to have thought of every detail. Patsy had watched, smiling, as Delia had got more animated about curtains and cushions and pictures on walls, and eventually she had to laugh, Delia pretending to be insulted before laughing that sweet, joyous laugh that Patsy loved. Delia had talked about getting a record player before. They both so loved music. Patsy had made plans to buy one for her as soon as they were settled. They neither of them had any real belongings. Delia had moved straight into the Nurses’ home when she began training and Patsy…well Patsy had her shoebox. 

Sunrise pulled Patsy from her thoughts. She was kneeling on the blanket where they’d toasted their new life together as she saw the dahlias she’d bought back begin to glow like white-hot flames in the sunrise. 

She posted the keys back through the letterbox with a trembling hand. 

***

Send me the warmth of a secret smile,  
To show me you haven’t forgot.  
For now, and forever, that’s always and ever…

Patsy snapped off the wireless and gritted her jaw. Secrets were easy when there were two of you. As hard as it had been to be…what they were…at least there had been someone who knew. And she’d thought it was forever. It hadn’t been forever, it had been for one night, and now they were what she’d promised Delia that they weren’t. Ghosts. 

Another person lost. She didn’t even have a photograph. There was nothing of her that Patsy could touch. She could have been a dream.


End file.
